The Value of First Base
by AdieAngel
Summary: This is my attempt to explain why the HELL House and Cuddy haven't had one decent kiss between them in the eight episodes they've been together this season. H/C Established. Spoilers for all of Season 7.


This is my attempt to explain why the HELL House and Cuddy haven't had one decent kiss between them in the eight episodes they've been together this season. As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

I would also like to thank my esteemed (and fabulous, awesomesauce) beta, RochelleRene, for helping me deconstruct and reconstruct this story into something resembling something post-able. Many MANY thanks.

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The Value of First Base

The snow falls gently outside Cuddy's living room window as she sits on her sofa, a blanket strewn over her legs. Paperwork is laid out on the coffee table in front of her, her Mac Book balanced precariously on one knee. The telltale roar of a motorcycle engine alerts Cuddy to her arriving guest, and she removes her reading glasses and gently folds them, placing them on the table. She rises as House's cane raps sharply on the door once, twice. She grabs the door's handle, opening it to find House, cane in hand, mid-third rap. A light dusting of snow covers his leather-clad shoulders as he shivers against the icy wind.

"Hi," Cuddy offers him a small smile, entreating him to come inside.

He enters silently, shaking off the winter air and stomping snow off his boots. He says nothing as Cuddy closes the door behind him, waiting until she's in front of him once again. She starts to lean into him for a kiss when she hears, "So, is this the part where you break up with me?"

"What? No," Cuddy scoffs lightheartedly before noticing the slight look of panic under the stoic mask of House's face.

"House." She grasps his arm lightly, worry painting her features, "I didn't ask you to come over here to break up with you."

She sees the tension in House's shoulders ebb slightly, though she can tell that he's still wary. His eyes caress her face and land somewhere around her breasts. Her pulse quickens as she shivers unconsciously.

"Your neckline."

She looks down at her outfit: a thin black turtleneck and grey pencil skirt. Her brow furrows.

"What's wrong with my neckline?"

"The higher the neckline, the more pissed you are at me. The last time I broke the MRI, _allegedly_, you kept your suit jacket on all day. When I didn't go to Rachel's birthday, there was the thick sweater incident." Cuddy smirks.

"I figured a turtleneck meant breakup time. Plus the fact that you practically barged into my office this afternoon, asking me to come over later so we could… _talk_." House spits out the last word like a curse.

Cuddy laughs lightly, causing House's eyes to snap back up to hers.

"My neckline has to do with a new top and it being 20 degrees outside. I wanted to talk because I'm worried… "

She pauses, unsure how to continue. She tugs him forward into her living room, motioning him toward the sofa.

"Sit," she commands. House reluctantly obeys, shrugging out of his coat and dumping it along with his cane unceremoniously on the sofa's arm. Cuddy grabs the cane from the sofa before it teeters to the floor, leaning it carefully against the adjoining wall. She sits next to him, placing a hand on his leg. He watches her fingers brush against the rough denim nervously as she clears her throat.

"I don't… um… I'm not sure how to say this."

"You're gay."

"Shut up, House."

"Bisexual? Please tell me you're bisexual and you want to have a three way with Thirteen. Because, lemme tell you, I'm completely okay with that."

Cuddy rolls her eyes, smiling.

"You know I love you, right?"

"Oh, god," House groans, settling dejectedly against the sofa cushions.

"And I know you love me." Cuddy's heart pounds in her chest as she takes a deep breath.

"I'm sure there's a point somewhere around here, Cuddy. Would you mind getting to –"

"Why won't you kiss me?"

This gets House's attention. He sits straight up and looks into her eyes, more curious than upset.

"What are you talking about, Cuddy? As you may recall, we have had sex approximately one hundred and seventy six times in the past six months, two hundred and three if you count oral sex. I kiss you all the time."

Heat scores her cheeks in embarrassment, even as she finds herself impressed that he remembers how many times they've fucked since the night the world crashed around them.

"No, you press your lips against mine. Which is sweet, when I do it to Rachel. When it's my boyfriend…"

"Are you saying I'm a bad kisser?" House asks, incredulous.

"No!"

"'Cause, it sounds to me like you're telling me I'm a bad kisser. And frankly, I'm a little surprised because I've never had any complaints before."

"Listen, House –"

"Ask Stacy, or, hell, talk to Cameron. I've gotten very positive reviews from everyone in that particular department," House practically yells, defensive.

Cuddy glances towards Rachel's room, motioning him to keep his voice down. She leans in toward him, lowering her voice, "This is far from a complaint. I just… okay. Remember a couple years ago? I had just lost Joy, and you came over and we fought and you kissed me?"

"Are we cataloguing my failures now?"

"No, House!" Her grip on his thigh tightens. There is a note of desperation in her voice, "That was the best kiss I've ever had. In my life. Hands down."

"Hell yeah, it was," House mutters.

"But lately, when you kiss me, it's…"

"Boring? Lazy?" he gulps, "Slimy?"

"I was going to say gentle."

"Gentle," He repeats sullenly, "Wait. What's wrong with gentle?"

"Nothing, absolutely nothing." Cuddy shakes her head, continuing, "But there's a time and a place for gentle. And, frankly, when I'm riding you like a cowgirl the last thing I want is a gentle kiss. Does that make sense?"

House smirks at the mental picture of her lithe form straddling his hips, his cock sliding deliciously in and out of her as he pulls her down and presses his lips to hers.

His eyes narrow, "I guess."

Cuddy leans closer, hooking her free hand around the nape of his neck. Her fingers brush through the hair there. "Kiss me, House."

He pulls back, eying her warily, "I don't know if I want to, now. You're just going to tell me what I'm doing wrong."

Leaning closer, Cuddy huffs in frustration, "No, I'm not. I just figured, maybe we could practice. Diagnose and cure, right?"

His voice grumbles, "Well… practice _does_ make perfect," he agrees, leaning in to capture her smiling lips.

Her eyes slide shut as her smile closes on his upper lip while he sucks gently on her lower. She inhales sharply, smelling the dampness of his snow-melted hair and his uniquely musky scent. They readjust, trading short pecks, followed by brief, luxurious open mouthed kisses. Tentatively, Cuddy's tongue ventures into House's mouth, just barely grazing his before he slides his lips down over her jaw line and up behind her ear. Cuddy moans in ecstasy, her belly tingling in subtle arousal. The touch of House's tongue on the sensitive skin of her neck causes her to shiver, momentarily lost in sensation.

Her eyes snap open, her hands gently clutching his face as she tries to pull his lips away from her neck, "House, stop." His tongue is relentless, though, trailing slowly along her jugular before he bites gently in _that spot_. She groans softly, her hands still on his face for a moment before she redoubles her efforts.

"House... House!"

He pulls his lips away from her neck, his eyes dazed and unfocused as she looks into them.

"What, woman?"

"Kiss me, not my neck. My lips are up here." She releases his head to point saucily at her open mouth, her lips glistening with moisture. She bites her bottom lip enticingly.

"I know," House practically whines, his gaze moving from her plump lips to the smooth skin of her neck, "but you love it when I bite your neck," he leans in for another taste, but a hand on his chest stops him.

"I love it, I do," she assures him. But I want you to kiss me. I want these lips," she covers his lips with three fingers. He draws one greedily into his mouth before she pulls it away, touching her own, "on these lips. Got it? We can neck later."

House pretends to consider her proposal for a moment before launching forward, capturing her lips with his own once more. They trade gentle kisses for what seem like an eternity. This time when Cuddy presses her tongue against his lips, he is quick to open them, rubbing his own against hers experimentally. House moans, grabbing Cuddy by the waist and pulling her on top of him. Without breaking the kiss, Cuddy straddles House, mindful of his leg, her hands grabbing the back of the sofa for support. She deepens the kiss, luxuriating in the velvety feel of his tongue moving, whisper-soft, against hers.

It isn't long, however, before House's wandering tongue trails its way, once again, down along her jaw as his hands gently caress the skin of her back under the turtleneck. Cuddy pulls away abruptly, causing his mouth to disengage with a pop.

"What are you doing?" Cuddy is frustrated now, and she blows a hair off her forehead. House rests his forehead on her shoulder.

"I thought it was fairly obvious."

"House, we've been over this. I want you to -"

"I know, I know. Kiss you. And I thought I was!" House's agitation grows evident as he slides out from under her, moving to stand. "I don't know what you want from me, Cuddy. I told you I loved you. I'm here half the time, you're at my place the other half. I've opened my life to you more than anyone since Stacy, and this whole time you're thinking I'm a shitty kisser? What else aren't you telling me? Am I a horrible lay, too?"

"No, Jesus!" Cuddy stands, too, moving close to him. Her stance is meant to be intimidating, but in bare feet, her head tilted towards the much taller House, she looks more like an adolescent child standing up to the schoolyard bully. She pokes his chest. "I love you. I am not dissatisfied; I just want to know... If there's some kind of problem, we can work through it together!" Her understanding words are undercut by the harsh whisper of her tone.

"There is no problem!"

"Then, fuck... Kiss me, House!"

"Right now, I don't want to kiss you, Cuddy, to be honest. I'm gonna go." He moves to grab his jacket from over the arm of the sofa, shrugging it on as Cuddy watches, defeated.

She watches as he limps toward the doorway before she notices his cane leaning against the wall. She grabs it, following him to the door. His hand rests on the handle as she thrusts the cane at him, "Here. You forgot this."

He moves to take it from her, refusing to look her in the eye, but she's not letting go. He looks up at her sharply. Her eyes watch him expectedly. "What are you – "

"House, if you don't want to talk about it, it's fine. Honestly. I just thought, maybe… I don't know. Maybe I could…" she searches for the correct words, still watching his face intently, "help you."

"I don't need your help, Cuddy," he growls, his face hardening. She lets go of the cane, and it slips a few inches in his grip before he can grasp it securely. He lowers it to the floor with a thump, putting pressure on it as turns the doorknob. Cuddy walks away, leaning against the hallway wall. Disappointment burns behind her eyes, but she will not allow him the satisfaction of crying.

He opens the door, the cool winter air gusting in. She stares at the back of his head as he hesitates, opens the door wider, then shuts it abruptly. He spins around, facing her and she gasps.

"I can't do this with you, Cuddy."

Tears begin to prick her eyelids as she forces out, "So, what, you're breaking up with me, now? It's…" her eyes implore him, and he looks away, "it's just a kiss, House."

He moves toward her, his gait awkward. His eyes flicker from the floor to the bookshelf, anywhere but to her face, "It's not just a kiss to me, Cuddy. When we're… having sex… fucking… making love. Whatever… I feel. Everything feels better when you're around. Everything. One day, one MRI broken or missed birthday party too many, you're going to leave." He shrugs as though it's an inevitability, "I can't… if I kiss you like I want to kiss you, I'm never going to be able to stop. I'm going to want to kiss you forever. I'm going to overwhelm you. And when you do finally want to stop – because they all, eventually, want to stop – I –"

"House." He finally tilts his gaze up at her, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I don't want you to stop. I _want _you to overwhelm me." She pulls him closer, her hand stroking the hairs at the nape of his neck. "I've known you for twenty five years, House. Nothing you've said or done so far has made me change my mind about how much you mean to me. No matter how mad we get at each other, I will always," she squeezes his neck gently in emphasis, "_always_, be here, with you."

She smiles up at him, "Okay?"

Cuddy watches as House considers her answer, his eyes flickering back and forth across her face as if he's reading her. She feels helpless and plaintive under his gaze, her eyes begging him to believe her. After a moment, he lowers his gaze, nodding once. Cuddy releases a breath, bringing her other hand up around his neck to join the first as his mouth curls up into a soft smile. She returns his smile bashfully as House props his cane up against the wall behind her. His hands find the smooth expanse of her hips.

"Now, where were we?" he whispers, leaning down to brush his lips against hers once, twice. On the third pass, she captures his upper lip between hers and gently bites down with encouragement. He immediately opens his mouth, his tongue searching for the warmth of hers and, finding it, he inhales sharply at the contact. Cuddy feels herself melting into his arms, yielding to the kiss as arousal blooms hot in her belly. She clutches him desperately, their mouths moving with a ferocity and passion new and thrilling to both of them. She lifts herself up on tiptoe, trying to get closer, delve further into the warmth of his mouth. She whimpers.

They kiss forever, until the balls of her feet ache and her breathing quickens. She breaks away, panting deliriously, light headed from the lack of oxygen. She smiles up at him, noting the smear of lipstick coating his bottom lip and the dazed expression on his face. She can feel the pounding of his heart through her breast, pressed enticingly against his. She grabs his hand, pulling him back towards the sofa. She helps him out of his jacket, throwing it back onto the arm, before pushing him down and straddling his legs once again.

"So, House… wanna make out?"

He smiles and arches his neck up to kiss her deeply, their tongues intertwining effortlessly as his hands caress her stomach and slowly climb, under her turtleneck, to graze her bra. Her toes curl, and she presses herself against the warmth of his growing erection. They make no move beyond that, though, as they stay on the couch, kissing for what seems like hours, enjoying the simple pleasure of it. After a while, Cuddy pulls away, resting her forehead against his, their panting breaths comingling between them.

"Congratulations, House. You made it to first base." He smiles.

"I love it when you talk in sports metaphors."

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it."

She nibbles his lower lip, then asks, "You ready to run a triple?"

"Slide into home plate?" he counters and she laughs, a throaty, breathless sound, before standing back up, pulling him along with her.

Cuddy pulls House gently down the hall, their fingers entwined. As she opens the door to her bedroom, he presses his chest against her back, leaning down to whisper in her ear, "Do I have permission to kiss your neck now, boss?"

She arches her neck to one side in silent invitation. Her eyes roll skyward as she sighs teasingly, "Oh, I suppose."

He smiles as his mouth latches on to her neck, his tongue trailing up behind her ear. Cuddy can feel his erection pressing into her lower back and she moans appreciatively, clutching the door's archway for support when her knees threaten to buckle. After taking a moment to regain her composure, she enters the room, House's mouth traveling up to gently nip her earlobe.

She turns in his embrace, claiming his lips in another scorching kiss. As his tongue strokes hers, she begins to unbutton his shirt before roughly pushing it over his shoulders. He shrugs it off quickly, tossing the offending item to the floor before helping her out of her turtleneck. He clutches the cotton in his hands, shaking it at her. "Never again."

The turtleneck joins his shirt on the floor as she grins, nodding her head in silent capitulation.

"I'm serious. Those things scare me."

She leans into him, then, whispering, "Well, then. How do you suggest I stay warm out there in the cold, wet snow?" His gaze drops to her bra-clad breasts, his focus momentarily lost.

"House."

Without shifting his gaze, she hears, "Invest in scarves," before he lowers his mouth to kiss her collarbone. She laughs, a light, lilting sound, as he reaches behind her to unhook her bra, sending it tumbling to the floor. As his hands find her breasts, she leans forward, her mouth latching onto the skin of his shoulder. She licks her way up his neck, mimicking his earlier actions, as he fumbles for the zipper of her skirt. They quickly undress until only Cuddy's panties remain, and House backs her up to the bed.

She falls back onto the springy mattress and House clambers on top of her, his mouth lapping greedily at one turgid nipple as the whiskers of his five o'clock shadow tickle the underside of her breast. Cuddy moans in appreciation as her hands stroke his arms, shoulders, anywhere she can reach. Her fingers tunnel through his hair, keeping his mouth on her nipple as his left hand trails down her stomach and under the band of her panties. As he switches to her unattended left nipple, his finger gently parts the folds of her dripping sex, and he dips one finger gently into her center. Cuddy arches her back, moaning at the welcomed intrusion.

He lifts his head, smiling at her flushed cheeks and slightly dazed expression, "I believe we've successfully hit second base."

"I'm going to hit _you_ if you don't –" she gasps as he adds a second finger to her heat, stroking deftly in and out, "stop talking and fuck me."

"Ooh, Cuddy, I love it when you get bossy."

She reaches down between his legs, sliding her hand along his erection. He groans appreciatively, but doesn't stop as his lips continue the slow mapping of her body, trailing down over her stomach. He removes his fingers from her, hearing her desperate whimper, and pulls her panties down and off her legs before positioning himself at her entrance.

"Third base, here we come."

As House's tongue dips into her center, she cries out, clutching the headboard. His tongue trails up, circling her clit before biting gently. He re-inserts two fingers into her warmth, causing her to moan in appreciation. She begins to writhe against him, one hand dragging through his hair and holding him against her as he pushes her closer and closer to orgasm. Her breathing quickens, her muscles tense. Just as she reaches the precipice, House hauls himself back up, taking her lips in a bruising kiss. Cuddy growls in frustration before melting into the kiss, tasting herself on his lips.

"What the hell –" Cuddy pulls away from his mouth in exasperation.

"I didn't want you reaching home plate before me." House smirks, and Cuddy rolls her eyes.

"You are such an asshole."

House grins mischievously as he positions himself at her entrance before pushing inside. Cuddy grips his shoulders, expelling a breath as she adjusts to him. She grins appreciatively as he begins to move above her, the delicious friction causing the curl of arousal to tighten low in her belly. Her thighs grip House's hips, her hands caress the soft skin of his back as he peppers her neck and breasts with wet, open-mouthed kisses. As his pace quickens, she pulls him back in for another tongue-tangling kiss, and she can taste salty tang of her sweat on his lips. House moans in approval, his eyes slipping shut, his arms straining to hold his weight as she can feel his muscles tense in anticipation. As he thrusts into her, lightning fast, her orgasm blooms, spiking up her spine. She cries out, tightening around House's penis as he follows her over the precipice. His arms collapse, crushing her momentarily into the mattress. She can feel his panting against her shoulder as she brushes her lips against his forehead. He leans back slightly, his eyes meeting hers.

"Looks like we – "

"If the next words that come out your mouth have anything to do with baseball, this is the last sexual experience you and I are going to have. Ever. You feel me?"

A short bark of laughter issues from House's lips, and Cuddy jumps in surprise, then joins in. He grips her hips, rolling to the side, dragging her along with him until she is nestled against his lanky frame, her right leg sliding over his left. He runs his hands leisurely over her shoulder blades and down to the small of her back, letting them rest there as she cushions her head against his shoulder.

"Yeah, I feel you."

She arches her neck, her hand trailing through his hair as she pulls him down for a slow, languid kiss. Their tongues slide together as they duel lazily for what seems like hours before she lowers her head back onto his shoulder.

Moments pass in silence as Cuddy gently caresses the sparse hair of House's chest, her eyes slipping shut. She can feel the tension in House's body slide away as he is pulled into sleep.

"House?" Cuddy whispers suddenly, looking up at him. He doesn't open his eyes.

"Hm?"

"You are an amazing kisser."

His left eye squints down at her, and he pats her hip teasingly.

"Told you."

The End.

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Thanks for reading! Don't forget to tip your waitresses.


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